Everything is so dusty,
Outside or inside?
Everywhere,
Oh yes it happens.
And the song of a broken sigh,
And a beaten oak on a windy night,
And a river that swallows everything.
Broken sigh.
A dream shattered like glass on the stairs
That lead to despair,
When will the city end?
Romance in red?
And to what sense,
Missiles and broken lens.
Give me sadness in another thin cup
Push me on a cross and cry God
Save it all, and open another file.
Walk into another room; don’t leave any closed,
Wait for the one, who drinks champagne.
For the violins and all the meaningless songs,
And Mr Bojangles dance.
And I'll pour it into their hands,
Ask them for another room,
In a dusty cheap hotel,
And broken lights, endless lost roads
On a bed where I cannot sink anymore.
Wake me up before the trains don’t leave,
And sing me songs with words.
Words for all those fallen birds'.
And autumn?
And in autumn, we will leave for the woods.
And I will step into the river
Like Virginia, or dream Eliot.
Save this, and leave to haunt in a jar,
Besides the windowsill.
Edit the words, and marinate them with time,
Till they seem like broken dreams of a yesterday's young man,
Hold them till they dry like flowers.
When the morning tastes of honey and garbage,
And nights of burnt wood.
Time holds me and leaves me,
And drops me into a river.
To lay below the fish,
With an English accent.
Someday soon
No it has to end,
It’s all vicious,
Another drift,
Somewhere the wind too drops.